Mr.
Nesbitt had not sent the key with me, as it was an automatic lock, and
it really was none of my business if folks moved out and left the
lights on. Still it seemed irregular, and when I got home I tried to
get Mr. Nesbitt on the phone. But he and Mr. Orchard had left the
office and gone out into the country for the afternoon.
Business,--they never go to the country for pleasure. So I comfortably
forgot all about the electric lights.
"But Monday afternoon, Mr. Nesbitt happened to remark that his family
would not move in until Wednesday. Then I remembered.
"I said, 'What is the idea in having the electric lights burning down
there?'
"'What?' he shouted. He always shouts unless he has a particular
reason for whispering.
"'Why, the electric lights were burning in the house when I went by
Saturday.'
"'All of them?'
"'Looked it from the outside.'
"'Did you turn them off?'
"'I should say not. I hadn't the key. Besides I didn't turn them on.
I didn't know who did, nor why. I just left them alone.'
"That meant a neat little electric bill of about six dollars, and Mr.
Nesbitt talked to me in a very un-neutral way, and I got my hat and
walked off home. He called me up after a while and tried to make
peace, but I said I was ill from the nervous shock and couldn't work
any more that day.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30